


Nightmares

by Sinneli



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:25:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinneli/pseuds/Sinneli
Summary: Those that haunts the agents of Overwatch... And a little more than them.





	

It was difficult for the Widowmaker to understand the woman named Amélie Lacroix. After all, it was before her time, and despite having memories of her, she was, fundamentally, different from a loving wife that had died after having been kidnapped. 

Dead wasn't exactly the word to use when she was essentially alive, but it still seemed that way for most people who had known her, and was aware of her existence as an assassin for Talon. She wasn't a mercenary, unlike Reyes, who worked with Talon as of now; she was a loyal soldier, and so much more. Part of her reminded her that she should despise Talon, and she was aware of it, but she didn't particularly care for it. As impossible as it was, both for her to despise the organization that took her life and to not care for what they had done to her, she still felt that she didn't care for what she had become. Occasionally, she enjoyed it. A living weapon, and that was what she was designed to do: Kill. 

The body that had been Amélie Lacroix now moved to serve an organization that broke terror into the hearts of every single person in this world, to make the matters worse for everyone... And yet she found herself not caring. 

~~But she would have cared, and she knew it.~~

Occasionally, she thought of spiders, and how she had fear of them. How Amélie had fear of them. It seemed silly, childish, even. After all, it was hard to feel fear, dread, terror, or any emotion for that matter save for the moment of excitement: when she had a mission and she was to fulfill it. A bit of challenge was fun, on some occasions, as long as it did not prove to her too problematic. A bullet in her was still far too painful for her to press down and ignore it, after all. 

When she saw Ana Amari at the corner of her eyes, past the cracked visor, she had stared with such venom, and it matched what she was feeling. For a moment, she was not dealing with a flutter of a bird's wing that her heart had given, but rather, a series of drumbeat. That of a wardrum, a smoldering sensation as of a volcano would burst, reddish light cracking down burnt, blackened earth as she hefted up the rifle in mere moments, lined up a shot, and fired at the stunned woman who was still staring at her, recognizing her not as an enemy, but rather, Amélie Lacroix, and she felt the flutter once again, along with satisfaction, as she saw blood spurt from her eye, and she left her for dead. 

A mistake that the woman paid dearly, or so she had thought. 

~~And there was that sensation on the back of her mind that tugged at her, as if she had forgotten something.~~

She had forgotten not to check for the kill, and Ana Amari proved to be alive after years to come, but that did not matter to her. The rage that she felt as the bullet had hit her was gone, and she was just another target. Another enemy to eliminate if she ever came between her way. 

Regardless, there was relief when she had finished the mission. She knew what was to come, after all. Another mission, whether it be another person to shoot at, or infiltration amongst enemies, or even something as petty theft. Talon had uses for her and she would fulfill their every wishes like a loyal puppet. 

And she didn't care much for that. 

~~But she knew she would have cared.~~

And yet... she had difficulty sleeping. Always, she thought it was a side effect, and she always might think it that way, but she slept better sitting up than lying down on fabric. 

When she did end up sleeping on a bed, she woke up, not sure what had awakened her. But she felt... stiffened, her entire body screaming out to stand on guard. Something had happened, though she knew it was in her mind, as she found herself dripping with cold sweat, her eyes wide, a scream lodged at the back of her throat. And, in that instant, it was a habit for her to look to her side, grabbing for her gun, whether or not it was present. 

Occasionally, there was nothing there. Occasionally, there was her gun by her side, and she would grab it, only to find the coldness returning to her body as her heart slowed down, telling her it was silly for her to feel this way, that she only had a dream. 

On those occasions, she rarely asked herself, if it was possible for her to feel emotions other than her current range of what she could feel. 

Occasionally, she saw a man lying there, a hole on his forehead, staring at her in disbelief. 

Occasionally, he would speak, though it's not of hate, but of longing. 

It wasn't a question of why she would do such a thing, but rather, it was a question that asked her name. Or what had been her name. 

"Amélie?" The dead man would say with his hollow eyes, long since dead, his eyes almost like glass, gray and dead like that of a fish. 

~~"I'm sorry." She was so tempted to say.~~

Then she would blink, and the sense of something would pass.  ~~It was dread.~~ She would be alone and she would feel nothing, once again, and longing to feel excitement came.  ~~Because she was afraid to feel regret.~~ She would only look back at her mistakes she made and made sure that she would never make them again.  ~~But she kept making them.~~ She would choose,  ~~unable to choose~~ who would die at the end of her scope, in the middle of the cross-hair... 

But before then, as she woke up, she would always taste an inkling of dread at the back of her throat, a telltale experience from a dream. 

Maybe the woman known as Amélie was still in there, but not fighting. Unable to fight. 

Maybe, however briefly, when she dreamed, she was, however briefly, Amélie again, and crushed by the weight of whatever she had done while Widowmaker did her work, and would regret what she had sowed. 

Maybe, but every single mission, Widowmaker would only remember excitement of the kill.


End file.
